


What It Feels Like For A Girl

by PepperF



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Gen, fem!guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four relationships that are the same when Guy is a woman, and one that's different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_[the man's too strong]_

She's killed men before – all right, only two men, but nevertheless, this wasn't the first time she'd had blood on her hands. So why is her heart pounding? Why are her hands shaking? Why does she have a sick feeling in her stomach? Surely not because those first two killings had been in self-defence, whereas this one... this one was under orders.

She looks at Vaisey, and straightens automatically. Something about him makes her want to hide her weakness. She wants his respect, his attention, his trust. She's seen the good he can do for those who are useful to him – and the evil that befalls those who get in his way. She glances down at the body. Now she's made herself an instrument of that evil, because the Sheriff is the only one who ever treats her that way – as a worthy tool, a blade as dangerous as any man. 

He shows no interest in his former lieutenant, looking only at Gisèle, a speculative expression in his eyes. "All right?"

She hopes her face is passive. She has an uneasy feeling that her every thought is visible. "Yes, my lord. Why shouldn't it be?"

A smile flickers over his face, gone in an instant. "Why indeed." He turns on his heel and stalks towards the oaken door. Gisèle hurries to catch up, wiping the blade on her black woollen tunic. "You'll get rid of the evidence, of course," he adds, not looking back. 

Gisèle stumbles to a halt, and looks back at the body in dismay. "Yes, my lord," she says, wondering how exactly she's supposed to do that.

The Sheriff pauses at the door. "Good work, Gisborne," he says. Gisèle glances up in surprise, but he's gone. 

She draws in a deep breath, and looks at the body with renewed determination. She'll show him that she can do whatever it takes in order to succeed. Whatever it takes.


	2. Chapter 2

_['cause cheap is how i feel]_

"I'm not going to run away."

"Dammit, Marian...!" Gisèle stalks across Marian's room and drops onto the edge of the bed, staring at the silver necklace in her gloved hand. She'd been so sure that she'd seen the same one back around the neck of that girl – but here it is, impossibly, wonderfully proving that Marian hasn't rejected her gift, hasn't betrayed her to Hood. She's never been so glad to be wrong.

She doesn't know why she needs Marian's friendship so much, why she is so anxious for her approval. She just knows that it feels as though Marian is the only one who might understand, who might see through the protective layers of cynicism and cruelty to the desperately lonely heart within. So she brings her gifts – mere trinkets, really – hoping that somehow they might buy her a tiny portion of the love that Marian gives so freely to everyone else.

When she'd seen the necklace back with the peasant girl today – _Hood must have found her something similar, to appease her; it's so typical of the man_ – she'd felt her heart plummet into her boots. She'd been left breathless with the shock, her mind spinning: Marian did not care, she was not her friend, she was laughing at Gisèle behind her back, she was playing her for a fool, she was in league with Hood... Foolishly, she'd gone to the Sheriff with her suspicions. Now the damage has been done. He already distrusted Marian, and this is the perfect excuse for him to trump up a charge and have her arrested. Have her executed. After all, this is not her first offence.

"You have to get out of here," Gisèle says. "You don't know what he's like – he'll show no mercy because you're a woman. What he did to your hair was nothing—"

"No! I'm not leaving my father, and I'm not leaving my home. He cannot imprison me on a mere suspicion. I am a noblewoman, and I have rights. I'll appeal to the King's court if I have to."

She has to admire Marian's strength of will, if not her blind optimism. "Then you must prove your loyalty," says Gisèle, wracking her brains for some solution. "You have to do something that will put you beyond suspicion."

"I should not have to prove myself!"

"No. But you must. If you trust our friendship at all, please believe me, you are in grave danger. I would not see you hurt for my foolish mistake!" she begs, but Marian still looks mulish. "Marian, for your father's sake, if nothing else..."

Marian's shoulders drop, and she comes over to sit beside Gisèle on the bed. "Very well. What do you suggest?"

"A trap," says Gisèle, improvising quickly. "Hood still trusts you, right?" 

Marian nods reluctantly. "I think so. Possibly."

"We must use that. You must help me to bring him in. It's the only way the Sheriff will accept that you are on our side. Will you do it?"

Marian stares out at the sky, as if she is seeking something – an alternative, perhaps? Finally she sighs. "Very well," she says, enunciating each word clearly. "I will help you to capture Hood. It seems I have no choice."

Impulsively, Gisèle puts her arms around the other woman and hugs her tightly, grateful that Marian has chosen a side, and that it is hers. But Marian does not respond, does not return the hug. Her stare remains distant, fixed on the world outside the window.


	3. Chapter 3

_[don't come the cowboy with me, sonny jim]_

To her annoyance, Allan follows her into the house, and up to her room. He has some nerve! She ignores him, trying to treat him like a nonentity – the dead man that the law has declared him. She doesn't acknowledge their connection, and she certainly doesn't notice that he's quite attractive, in a sly way.

She discards her jacket, stalks behind a screen and pulls off her top, wishing she had time to bathe. She's been riding back and forth all day and she reeks of sweat – but a change of clothes will have to do. "Hood found you out," she guesses. "That's not my problem." It's a shame, though: having a spy in the outlaws' camp had been useful.

"It's not," he agrees, "but it could be to your advantage. Your men are pretty useless, right? I could tell you things – teach you what I've learnt from Robin."

She looks over the top of the screen. "Can you take me to the camp?"

Allan shakes his head, as if he thinks he has some power in this negotiation. "Nah. I'll never betray 'em like that." She scowls, and he seems to sense that he's losing her sympathy. "Anyway, they'll probably move it now."

"Then you're of no use to me." Gisèle drops back behind the screen and grabs a fresh top, pulling it over her head. 

"Look, how many times did we break into that castle? I could show you how we did it. There's a thousand different ways. That place is open as a market."

He has a point. Gisèle straightens her sleeves and steps back out. She doesn't miss the way his eyes flick appreciatively over her figure, and it sets her teeth on edge. "I owe you nothing, Allan."

"Look, I've got nowhere else to go." That at least sounds sincere. "I can't go back, an' I'm a dead man to the rest of the world. I'm beggin' you, right?" He pulls his hungriest and most pathetic expression. "Let me come work for you. You won't regret it."

She grabs her jacket and checks herself in the glass. The Black Knights are arriving today, and she must look professional, competent. When she turns, Allan is watching her closely, and she tries not to make it obvious that she's considering his offer. He has been useful, after all, and not just for his position with the outlaws. He's intelligent – certainly more so than the men he left unconscious outside – and ambitious. And for some reason, she actually rather enjoys his company. Perhaps it's because, despite the beginnings of their association, he's never been particularly cowed by her. No one else talks to her with such affectionate disrespect, and it's refreshing. It almost feels like friendship.

"Get some food from the kitchen," she tells him. "And clean yourself up. Then come see me at the castle. We'll see what the Sheriff has to say." Allan's face lights up. "He'll probably order your execution," she adds, grudgingly.

Allan shakes his head and holds out her sword, giving her a crooked grin. "Me get myself executed? Nah, it'll never happen," he says.


	4. Chapter 4

_[so much for my happy ending]_

Kate is never going to warm to her. Apparently Gisèle murdered her brother. 

She vaguely remembers the incident – but in all honesty, she has killed many peasants, and their faces rather blur together into one dun-coloured mass. She knows this makes her everything that Kate says about her, but it's a bit late to care about that. She cannot change the past, and she knows that her soul is long-since damned. 

Despite Robin's earnest campaigning on her behalf, she's not interested in gaining anyone's trust. She needs the outlaws so she can get to Isabella, and they need her for the same reason. It is a relationship of convenience. If anyone thinks she's softening, they are wrong. Still, it is... nice, when she overhears Robin speaking quietly to Kate about trust and acceptance. But Kate's heart is stone, as far as Gisèle is concerned. She will follow Robin, and if Robin says they must trust her, she'll do that – but she'll never accept her presence in the camp, in the gang. If Kate had her way, Gisèle would be dead already.

She can't blame the girl. Much though she dislikes her on general principle, Gisèle would feel the same in her place. She would not forgive as readily as Robin does – she doesn't have the ability. She would probably wait for the right moment and take her revenge – which is why Gisèle will be sleeping with one eye open tonight. Robin will never accept the truth that both Kate and Gisèle understand: that blood can only be repaid in blood. 

So she's more than a little wary when Kate, having finished speaking to Robin, stands and strides across the camp towards her. Gisèle takes an involuntary step back, and sees the satisfaction in Kate's eyes at the seeming flinch. She is tempted to demonstrate that the stance is better for punching – but then Kate holds a bundle of cloth out with a stiff arm.

"Here." It's clearly harmless, but still, Gisèle doesn't reach for it. Kate rolls her eyes. "It's something to sleep in. Take it. Or don't. I don't care."

Gisèle takes it. She has nothing but the clothes on her back, after all. She doesn't thank Kate for her charity, fairly sure that any words from her will be unwelcome.

"You're sleeping there," says Kate, pointing to a bunk, and then turns to eye Gisèle, saying with menacing sweetness: "Right... next... to me."

There is a modest curtain separating them from the men, and Gisèle changes quickly behind it and slips into bed before she can get involved in any more uncomfortable conversations. She's exhausted. She last slept properly... when? She can't even remember. And as she has no intention of sleeping properly tonight or any night she spends in the outlaws' camp, the wonderful permanent headache, the sand in her eyes, and the raging paranoia are unlikely to be relieved any time soon.

"I hope you have horrible nightmares," Kate whispers vengefully, as they settle in for the night.

Yes. How very welcoming.

And yet, despite everything, she does sleep. The constant hushing of the wind through the trees is very soothing – or possibly it's her bone-deep weariness – or maybe it's the feeling she's been trying to suppress, that this camp is some kind of sanctuary. Whatever it is, she is out in moments, and only wakes when she's shaken, some unknown time later. It's dark and someone is hovering over her, and Gisèle scoots back as far as she can go, fumbling for a weapon. It's a long, tense moment before she understands that she's not going to be murdered.

"You were working up to making a racket," Kate explains in a whisper. Gisèle is about to say that she doesn't need Kate's concern when the woman adds, "I didn't want you waking the others."

"Oh. I see. I'll try to have quieter horrible nightmares in future," says Gisèle, not quite together enough to check the bitter words. She doesn't remember what she was dreaming about, but the sense of impending doom is still over her like a stifling blanket, and she'd like nothing better than to get up and leave – except that being alone in the dark forest would be even worse.

Kate is still standing there. "Just... try not to cry out, will you?" she says, and turns to climb back into her own bunk. "These men need to sleep. We've got a hard day tomorrow." She turns her back, and falls silent, and a few minutes later, Gisèle hears her breathing soften into the patterns of sleep.

Gisèle lies awake for the rest of the night, going back over the choices she's made in her life. She's trying to work out exactly how she ended up here, and whether it's redemption or just a new kind of punishment.


	5. Chapter 5

_[regrets collect like old friends]_

"—all three rabbits!"

There's a burst of unfamiliar female laughter, low and melodic, and Robin crests the rise to find Much and Gisèle sat beside the small campfire, looking very companionable. They look up at him, startled, and Gisèle's face quickly drops into its habitual scowl (she does that by default, he's noticed, until she's worked out the appropriate response). Much looks guilty, as though he's not allowed to enjoy a laugh with their former second-worst enemy. Or maybe just because he's been telling her that damn story, when Robin expressly forbade him to tell it to anyone else. Ever.

It's not that Robin doesn't want to see Gisèle accepted by the gang. After all, she's practically family now, and they're on the same side, sharing a common goal. They'll need her help if they are to defeat Isabella, not only because of her insider knowledge of her sister and the castle, but also because she's one of their best fighters. No, it's a good thing that the gang are – reluctantly, in most cases – coming to tolerate her presence. It's just... a little disconcerting to find her giggling with Much, of all people.

Somehow, he'd thought that Much would resist the longest. After all, wasn't he supposed to be unshakably loyal to Robin, holding grudges on his behalf for any insult or injury, no matter how slight, long after Robin himself had magnanimously forgiven and forgotten them? And Gisèle has given them a multitude of reasons to hold grudges over the past three years. But to Robin's utter surprise, the two seem to be bonding. What's worse, they are bonding over their mutual disrespect for _him_.

"I'm glad to see you're making friends," says Robin.

Gisèle grunts and looks at the fire, and Much contrives to look even more guilty. "We were just... talking," he says, as if he needs to explain. As if there's something to excuse.

"Good. That's good. I'll need everyone to be able to work together when we attack the castle." He regrets – slightly – the shuttered look that comes over Gisèle's face, and the fleeting look of fear from Much before he busies himself turning the meat on the spit.

"About that," says Gisèle, all business now. "I had an idea." Robin raises his brows, and Gisèle shakes her head. "When everyone's back," she promises.

Robin nods. One thing he can say about her: she's easy to work with. She understands the need for discipline, unlike the others – even Much, who served in the King's army just as long as Robin, and yet never quite managed to grasp the concept of following orders without question.

"So did you come up here for a reason?" grumbles Much. "Or was it just to depress us by reminding us that we're probably all going to die very soon?"

Robin smirks. "Actually, I came to see what's for dinner," he says, and begins to hop back down the hill. "And whether it's squirrel again!"

" _No_ ," says Much, indignantly. He never fails to rise to the provocation. "Actually..." he adds, his voice going suspiciously wobbly, "it's rabbit." Robin could swear he hears a muffled snort from Gisèle.

Robin hunches his shoulders and stomps away, pointedly ignoring them both.


End file.
